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#all my programs kept crashing
ask-tiny-allen · 1 year
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hey Michelle do you think you can do something to calm Pun down and have him stop chasing Allemostia?
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And Pun stopped chasing after Allemostia, and everyone got their clothes back, and they lived happily ever after
Well not Allen, Asan still has boyfriend clothes on.
Well that's about it for this April Fools Special of reviving a dead ask blog you can still try to send asks from time to time and I will try to answer them when I have the energy. Have a great rest of the day! I might do an AlleAsan bonus after tho.
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tapeworm-loser · 2 years
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Stop motion is fun
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captainsophiestark · 1 month
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Unexpected Guest
Dick Grayson x Reader
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Masterlist - Join My Taglist!
Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)
Fandom: DC
Summary: Dating a vigilante sometimes leads to a few false alarm scares, but Dick Grayson couldn't be happier with how well his partner rolls with his crazy family.
Word Count: 1,410
Category: Fluff
Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.
Crash!
My eyes shot open at the sound of a noise from the living room of the apartment I shared with my boyfriend, Dick Grayson. The man in question still snored peacefully next to me, annoyingly, but a quick glance at the clock told me why. It wasn't quite 5am, and Dick had been out patrolling until one in the morning. I listened carefully for any other noises in the apartment. I didn't want to wake my poor boyfriend up unless I absolutely had to.
After a few minutes of nothing, I heard another crash followed by a tense voice and what sounded like hushed swearing. This time, I didn't hesitate to roll over and whack Dick on the chest, hard.
His eyes shot open and he was half sitting up when I managed to throw a hand over his mouth to keep him from giving away that we were awake. My wide eyes must've tipped him off to something being wrong, because I immediately saw him shift from sleepy to ready for action.
Slowly, I dropped my hand from his mouth and leaned in to whisper in his ear.
"There's someone in our living room. I heard two crashes and someone swearing."
Dick nodded once, then motioned with his hands while mouthing 'stay here'. He hopped off the bed, grabbing his escrima sticks from where he'd thrown them onto the dresser, then stalked towards the door with catlike grace and stealth. After a minute, I decided I couldn't just let him go alone, superhero or no, so I grabbed the bat I kept by my side of the bed and followed after him.
Dick popped out the door, and after a moment without hearing anything, I followed, bat at the ready. I found my boyfriend with one hand on his hip, weapons down, staring into the kitchen. I followed his gaze to find none other than Jason Todd in our kitchen, a mixing bowl and some eggs in front of him and a look with a significant lack of guilt on his face.
"What? I was after somebody and it dragged me all the way to Bludhaven. I needed a place to crash that was closer than Gotham."
Dick and I both shook our heads. As the oldest of a very high number of siblings, his apartment had become a second home base for every single other batkid. When we'd finally moved in together last month, he'd warned me I needed to be prepared for things like this.
"Glad you know to help yourself, Little Wing," said Dick with a sigh, waving one tired hand to Jason before turning and heading back to bed. I squeezed his shoulder and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as he passed me, then headed into the kitchen with a smile.
"My tax for you making me think I'd have to fight off an assailant with a bat at five in the morning is my own serving of whatever you're making," I said, taking a seat on one of the kitchen island stools. Jason raised an eyebrow at me.
"You're not going back to bed?"
"Nah. Unlike Dick, I got to bed at a somewhat reasonable hour last night, so the adrenaline dump isn't threatening to put me to sleep. I'd rather hang out with you, especially since you're a better cook than Dick and I combined. I'm not missing out on that."
Jason snorted, cracking an egg and resuming his cooking all the same.
"Dick contributes nothing to your combined cooking score," he said. "I'm pretty sure he's burned cereal before."
I laughed. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure you're right. He's gotten better though. We watch the Food Network and look up recipes to make together, and I can trust him with way more than I used to be able to."
"If you could teach him anything it'd be a miracle," said Jason with a snort. I just hummed, trying to pick up some new skills of my own as I watched Jason cook.
"To be totally fair to him, I once forgot what I was doing and strained soup because I was on autopilot for pasta."
Jason barked a laugh, unable to hold himself back, and looked at me with a grin and a raised eyebrow.
"Really?" I nodded. "That's pathetic."
I just shrugged. "Yeah. But at least there's not a lot of places to go but up, after that."
"I guess so."
Jason and I chatted as he cooked and I watched, keeping our voices low so Dick could sleep—although, after the night he'd had, he'd probably sleep through a train in our living room. After breakfast, Jason decided to go down for a nap on the couch, passing out almost as soon as we'd put the last few dishes in the sink. I just smiled, threw a blanket over him, and wandered back into the bedroom to find Dick.
It was late enough in the morning now that my boyfriend was officially up and about, stretching by the bed with his hair still a little messed up from sleeping. I grinned and flopped down against the headboard as he crossed the room to the dresser to pull out clothes.
"How's Jaybird?" he asked. "Still a good cook?"
"Still a great cook. And he's good. He seems a little wiped out from patrols and stuff, though. He's taking a nap on the couch right now."
Dick smiled and shook his head. "I get up and he goes to sleep. Typical."
"Clearly he's avoiding you."
"Clearly."
Dick and I shared a smile, and then he sighed.
"I'm going to take a shower. Hopefully Jason will be up by the time I'm out, because I actually have things to do today."
I smiled, shifting on the bed to pull the covers over myself. "I'm sure you can be quiet if he's not. Wake me up when you're out of the shower, okay? A post-breakfast nap sounds too good to resist right now."
My boyfriend laughed. "Alright, will do. I'll wake you and Jason up when I'm out."
"Mhm. Good luck with him."
"Thanks, I'm gonna need it."
I closed my eyes, getting comfortable and ready for my nap, but before I drifted off I heard Dick's shuffling footsteps crossing the room to stand by my side of the bed. A second later, he sat down next to me, the bed dipping under his weight. I cracked an eye open to squint at him.
"What do you want?"
He grinned at me and chuckled.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to interfere with your nap. I just... I wanted to say how much I appreciate you, and how good you are with my family. They mean the world to me, but I know having vigilantes dropping in at all hours of the day and night can be a little much to deal with. So thank you for being so wonderful about it, and about them."
I sighed, sitting all the way up and propping myself up on my hands to look Dick in the eye.
"Dick, I love you. And I love your family. Sure, it took a little getting used to some of the vigilante stuff, but the longer I know them the more I love them. You don't have to thank me for anything. They're my family too."
Dick absolutely beamed at me, wrapping one arm around my back and pulling me in for a kiss. I immediately reciprocated, tangling one hand in the hair at the nape of his neck. I smiled into the kiss and a moment later, Dick deepened it. We were right on the edge of escalating into something more, but both thought better of it at the last moment.
"I should take a shower," he said, still looking a little reluctant as he pulled away.
"Yeah, and you should stop interrupting my nap."
Dick snorted, rolling his eyes as he finally stood and headed for the bathroom. I grinned after him as he went, flopping back down onto my pillow only as Dick closed the bathroom door.
I took a deep breath and sighed, a smile on my face, as I closed my eyes for the second time. I heard the water start in the bathroom, and a faint smell of breakfast still hung in the air. I was surrounded by people I loved dearly, and who loved me right back. No matter the scare Jason had given me when he'd shown up, I couldn't ask for a better start to my morning than this.
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Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989
DC Taglist: @luv-ghostie
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luci-in-trenchcoats · 2 months
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Rainbow Bridge
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Summary: The reader is incredibly confused when in heaven one day, a dog she's never met before appears by her side...
Pairing: Dean x reader (in heaven)
Word Count: 1,800ish
Warnings: language, mention of pet death/human death
A/N: I wrote this for my fellow pet owners (and myself). Hopefully those little dudes over the rainbow bridge have their own kinds of adventures like these pups while they wait! (and all the chicken nuggies they can eat 😉)
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The air shifted, a warm and joyful presence filling the air. You glanced down in your kitchen, an adorable dog with long fur and pointy ears staring up at you with a wagging tail.
“Well good morning to you, cutie,” you laughed, bending down in your pajamas with your cup of coffee, giving the dog a few pets. “Who might you be?”
The dog woofed and the thought Miracle sprang into your head. That wasn’t entirely uncommon. Animals in the afterlife were able to communicate a bit better than they had when you were alive. 
One of your own dogs you’d had when you were alive, your first dog ever, bounded upstairs from the playroom on the lower level that was for them to use as a way station. Sometimes they liked to stick around home, sometimes by your side and others they’d go off and visit their own animal friends they’d made. But generally they kept to themselves first thing in the day.
“This a friend of yours, baby?” you asked your little dog. He ran over to Miracle, sniffing intensely before he snorted. “No huh. Did you just die, Miracle? I know sometimes dogs are a little confused when they get here and you got your young, healthy bodies back.”
Miracle woofed with a slight head shake, your lips pursing. Your own dog pawed at you, resting a little foot on your arm. You hummed at him, the little guy sending you some positive feelings, sensing you were worried.
“Alright. I’ve never heard of a random dog appearing in heaven unless you request one. You show Miracle around the house and where he can do his business while I get ready. Then we’ll try to figure out who your owner is, okay?” Both dogs yelped happily and took off downstairs, a loud crash at the bottom as they slammed into your boot tray. “Careful! Just cause you can’t get hurt doesn’t mean you can be reckless!”
More than one dog barked back in response and you rolled your eyes, heading for your bedroom.
“At least I don’t have to pay vet bills for you guys anymore. Five dogs is only kind of a lot for one eternity.” You heard more barking and groaned. “I wasn’t complaining you mongrels! I was quite pleased to see your little faces when I died. I could have done with a little less face licking though.”
You swore you could hear the faint echo of laughter in their barks as you got ready for the day.
“If I’m not back by supper make sure you boys get some dinner,” you called, heading outside with Miracle. You loaded into your car and headed down the road, thinking you had a problem. Soon you were taking an off ramp you’d not seen before. You wound up in a mostly empty parking lot, Miracle following you out and into the lone building around.
“Take an issue form and fill out everything before returning it to the counter,” grumbled the guy behind the desk, shoving a clipboard towards you. You stepped through the empty waiting room, picking up the board. You opened your mouth to speak when he sighed. “The form is a requirement by the big man. I’m just doing my job.”
“How do you have a job which is arguably the equivalent of working at the DMV, but in heaven? Like, we don’t have jobs.” He flickered his eyes up at you, making you jump back when they flashed black. 
“Demon, sweetie. It’s part of my rehab program so I can someday be like you. By then, some other schmuck in the program will have my job. No more questions.” 
“Okay…” you said, grabbing a pen and taking a seat, Miracle laying down on the floor beside you. You stared at the form, frowning when you didn’t see your particular issue listed.
“Um, excuse me, Mr. Demon,” you said, approaching the counter again, the guy rolling his eyes at you. “My problem doesn’t appear on the form?”
“That’s impossible. Those are the only issues possible of occurring in heaven.” You pointed at Miracle beside you, the guy standing to look down at him.
“I have no clue who this dog is and it’s not my dog’s friend. He just appeared next to me in my kitchen this morning,” you said. The demon stared at you, rubbing his temples. 
“Remember your steps, remember your steps,” he muttered to himself before forcing a smile. “Listen. Dogs don’t get lost in heaven. Either you know his owner-”
“Nope. My dogs don’t recognize him.”
“Fine,” gritted out the demon. “Then you and the owner of this dog are soulmates in some way.”
You blinked at him, the man angrily typing on his keyboard. 
“This dog belongs to a man named Dean Winchester. You and Dean Winchester were alive, somewhat, during the same time. He died a lot younger than you did. You two are…romantic soulmates,” he said, a fax machine going in the back. He got up and ripped off a sheet of paper, handing it to you. “Here’s his address. Now please go bother him instead of me.”
You rolled your eyes, ready to leave when you stopped, glancing down at Miracle. “Do you like, want to pet the dog?”
“Excuse me?” You turned around, the demon still on his feet.
“Well I mean, it’s probably been awhile since you’ve seen a dog or gotten to pet one. You can’t be that horrible if they’re letting you up here with the rest of us. So do you want to pet him?”
It was shocking how quickly the demon hopped over the counter and knelt down next to the dog, giving him a few pats and then a belly rub.
“I had a dog when I was a kid. I can’t wait to see her again once I get out of here,” he said, glancing up at you, seeming to forget he was a demon for a moment. “That was weird.”
“Dogs are kinda perpetually happy here and give off good energy. I’m sure your dog is looking forward to seeing you too,” you said as Miracle sat up and headed for the door. “Apparently I’m on the move. See ya around someday.”
“Yeah. Someday,” he said as you left. Five seconds later, now that you knew where you were going, you popped yourself over to this Dean Winchester’s place. You were standing outside a beautiful two story cabin on a lake, Miracle taking off in a sprint down a dock to where someone was sitting in a chair fishing. 
Your heart felt funny as the man on the dock stood and turned around, cocking his head at you. He gave Miracle a good ruffle before he approached, meeting you halfway across his backyard.
“Hi,” he said with a smile, shaking his head. “I uh-”
You both jumped when your five dogs appeared, running and chasing around a ball in the yard, Miracle joining in after them.
“Your dog popped into my kitchen this morning. I’m pretty sure we’re soulmates. At least that’s what this paper says,” you said, the pack of dogs sprinting around the corner of the house. “I’ve had a few pups in my life.”
“Miracle could do with some siblings,” he said, smirking as you felt a cozy peace inside you. “I was wondering where he ran off to. He normally doesn’t stray far from home. Looks like he was off finding his mom.”
“I thought soulmates were supposed to like…snap together when they’re both in heaven,” you said. He smirked, pursing his lips. “What?”
“I probably wasn’t in heaven when you died. I was jumping around alternate worlds and you look very confused all of a sudden.” You nodded, staring at him wide eyed. “I’m a smidge of a rule breaker…and I kinda know Jack…and took down the old god.”
Your first instinct was to call him crazy but he had no reason to lie. Besides, something ached in his soul, like it had a little bruise on it. This man had known serious pain and then some when he was alive.
“You know, I killed vampires when I was alive. What’s something you did for fun?” he asked. Your jaw dropped, Dean chuckling. “Oh boy. Sweetheart, you and I have some catching up to do.”
“Hi baby,” you said that night as you and Dean laid on a blanket in the yard, your little guy crawling up on the blanket and settling in beside Dean. “Aw, he likes you.”
“He’s protective of you. I can feel it,” he said with a hum. “He hung out with your grandparents a lot after he died. Apparently while you were crying over him on earth, he was chowing down on some of your grandpa’s maple syrup bacon thinking mom’s being overdramatic, I’m gonna see her again. She worries too much.”
You sat up, raising an eyebrow. “How do you know that? My grandparents told me they were with him until my parents got here and he stayed with them a while but dogs can’t talk to us like that here. We can sense them and stuff but we can’t know complete thoughts.”
Dean smiled, scratching behind the dogs ears. 
“Well, I’m a little special. I worked a case where I could communicate with dogs once. It came back up here. This little guy adores the fuck out of you and wishes you hadn’t been so sad back then but he understands. He is pretty awesome,” laughed Dean. 
“And he’s a little shit,” you giggled. “What else does he say?”
“He’s glad you got more dogs over your life and he’s glad you found me finally. Also if we don’t stop talking soon he’s going to go inside and sleep on our bed,” chuckled Dean. “Cranky baby, aren’t you?”
The dog snorted, stood up, licked your nose and trotted off inside with his chin turned up.
“Like I said, he’s a sassy little shit,” you chuckled, Dean pulling you closer. “So Dean. What do you got planned for the afterlife?”
“A bit of fishing here and there. Working on my car. Going out for a drink at the roadhouse. Hanging with my brother. Sneak out of heaven to get up to shit every once in a while, hopefully with you. How’s that sound?” he asked. You leaned over and kissed him slowly, rolling back with a smile. 
“Sounds like a plan, Winchester. Time to start having some fun in eternity.”
___________
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thewritermj · 5 months
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cameras flashes, that's how we crashed
battinson!bruce wayne X reader
part 1
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summary: on a press conference, bruce finds a journalist who's up to his standards
warnings: usual gotham violence, quick discrimination of a serial killer, not actually smut in this, but in the future so NSFW MDNI
a/n: forgive any grammatical mistakes, english is not my first language!!! Bruce lives in the manor instead of the Wayne Towers cuz I like the manor vibe more, also I kinda picture Jim Gordon from the Gotham Tv show, cuz I love that version but it doesn't really matters lol. (nothing said above is useful for this reading but I just thought you should know) also, this takes place one year after the movie
Bruce sat quietly on the car, the ride was awfully short. He wished he had more time to mentally prepare to his first press conference. He was a recluse for most part of his life, but after the scandal about The Gotham Renewal Program, people deserved to know the truth. And the idea of continuing his family legacy of charity and philanthropy wasn’t all bad and kept Alfred out of his nerves for a while.
And even tough Bruce Wayne could crack a fake smile to the cameras, throw charity galas and events, the true help came at night. The only possible salivation Gotham could have, the real way he could help the city was as Vengeance. The Batman. He didn’t think of himself as a hero, or a vigilante, more of a necessary evil; all the violence and anger, the rage and the darkness of his work, his project; people would be outraged if they found out they were the same man.
“We’re here, Mr. Wayne” The driver announced.
Alfred, who as sitting across from Bruce on the limo closed the papers he was reading and smiles softly.
“Ready, master Bruce?”
Bruce sighs.
“Not really”
The car parked inside the underground garage of the Wayne Enterprises, Bruce and Alfred made their way to the elevator, not a word was said.
Bruce stole a glance at his reflection on the mirror. A black suit Alfred picked for him, a W embroidery on its lapel, his hair was short now, shorter than he liked, all slicked back by hair gel, but nothing could hide the dark circles under his eyes or the lack of sun colour on his skin. Sometimes, just sometimes, Bruce wishes he didn’t have to wear normal clothes, to comb his hair, ties his bottoms; he wishes he could live inside the Batsuit. He felt like the suit was his own skin, her armour, him and Batman were on, there was no Bruce Wayne without Vengeance, they were bonded forever and could never be separated from each other. He wish they could, he wish he could be Batman alone; no press conferences, no reports, paparazzi, no “Bruce Wayne crowned prince of Gotham.”
The elevator stops and the door open. Alfred goes our first and greet some people outside, telling them where to go.
“You have 10 minutes, Bruce.” He warns, “I’ll get them stared and you wait here till I call you”
Bruce nods.
He sits down on a leather couch and waits, starring at the glass doors. All the reports and journalists waiting for him, men and women, from Gotham and other places of the world.
He’s nervous. Not nervous like he is before a fight, nervous he will be put on a corner, that he’ll be catch on a lie, nervous someone knows. It’s like someone in the next room it’s just waiting for him to appears, to stand up from their chair and ask ‘Are you the Batman?’
“Ladies and gentleman, Bruce Wayne” Alfred announces from the stage and glances at him.
Bruce works on his better smile he can put on and enters the stage; he’s received with thunderous applauses and blinding cameras flashes. He waves and sit on a chair, in a wooden desk in front of him is a glass of water and a microphone.
“Let’s get, started then” Alfred said, pointing to a woman in a grey dress standing with a microphone in her hand.
“Mr. Wayne, why did you decided to throw a press conference after years of reclusiveness?”
Bruce leans into her direction a bit.
“Well, I think all the events of the past year made me realize how much the Wayne Foundation means to Gotham and I’ve been a little reckless with that matter”
It was a good answer, he thought.
The following questions were easy too, “Mr. Wayne, how do you plan on taking care of the raised money? To prevent anything to happen again”, “What’s the difference between the Wayne Foundation and the Gotham Renewal Program?”, “What projects do you have in mind?”, and of course, some shallow questions, “What brand is your suit?”, “What car do you drive?”, question he almost laughed at. Did people actually wanted to know that?
Bruce was thinking how the conference was going well, easy, almost, not as he had pictured it before. Until…
“Mr. Wayne, what do you think about The Batman?”
He flinched for half a second, he opened his mouth but nothing came out.
Another woman asked something he didn’t quite hear with all that was going on inside his head, but the word Batman was also there. And then another, and another…
“Mr. Wayne, what do you think about The Batman?”
The room turned into a complete circus. Grown adults talking over each other, fighting for a turn on the microphone.
You rolled your eyes. This happens every time, someone thinks about the name Batman and suddenly everyone has something to say. What does it matter Bruce Wayne’s thought of the Batman? There were so much important questions to be asked, so much more to discover about that man’s life and projects than a simple opinion.
You were begging to regret the moment you accepted the offer to come to this conference. You weren’t a regular journalist, you didn’t know how to write an article about the weather, fashion trends, social events, you wrote about thing most journalist didn’t want to, thing that most people were scare to read. People scared of the truth. You weren’t. You would dig and dig until the raw verity came to surface, it didn’t matter where or who you had to dig.
The man who had introduced Mr. Wayne appeared again and announced the press conference. No fucking way, no without the answers you wanted, you didn’t take this job to watch other people ruin it.
Slowly, you got up from your sit and walked towards the person who as holding the microphone and gently pull it away from his hands.
“Mr. Wayne…” but the voices around you were too loud.
You gave the head of the mic a flick, the loud keen sound made the room come silent.
“Sorry.” You apologized. “Mr. Wayne, why did you felt the urge to re-open the school project at the marginalized neighbourhoods of Gotham after your father failed attempted?”   
The men was halfway leaving, but he turned around reluctant, staring right at you. Those piercing blue eyes roaming your face.
“Well, I believe the project needs a second chance. Children and teenagers should be given a chance to have a good education, it helps getting them out of the streets.” He answered, without the microphone his voice was low, but the silence of the room let you hear him loud and clear. “Who do you write for?”
“The Gotham Gazette” You answered proudly.
Mr. Wayne whispered something to the other man and sat back at the chair.
“Do you have any more questions, Miss…?”
You smile politely and told him your name.
“Would you say that the Wayne Foundation has an impact outside of Gotham?”
A ghost of a smile appeared on the man’s lips. You shook the urge to smile back at him.
You could tell he was a bit nervous, but he had answered the questions with manners and the right words, maybe he didn’t notice, but he’s quite good at it.
“Yes. I think the work we do on the Foundation inspires people to do the same. If it works out, we can show the world that if there was hope for Gotham there’s hope for them too”
“Do you think there’s hope for Gotham?” You asked, out of spite, because you didn’t write it down before the press.
His lips contracted to a thin line and he thought of it for a few seconds before answering:
“Yes. As long as people like me and you care about what happens here, there’s still hope for the city”
You smiles.
“People like me?”
“You seem to know a lot about the charity work, and you care enough to show it to the world”
Your smile grew bigger and you felt a hint of warm rushing through your cheeks.
Mr. Wayne answered a few more of your questions before the press conference was over.
You were, oh, so proud of yourself. The information you gathered was perfect for what you had in mind and for sure, you could make it a good article. An admiring of the Wayne legacy, that’s what you called yourself. It has always called out to you what that wealth family did; they had no obligation to do it, to donate not just money, but time and resources to help those who couldn’t have what they did, to make Gotham something to be proud of. It’s a shame they never lived long enough to cure it, to heal it. However, you hoped that, maybe, Bruce did. At least he sound determined to.  
You gathered your things and your purse, but as you made your way to the elevator, a woman dresses on formal clothes approached you with a clean, sharp smile that made her look like a dental paste commercial.
“Excuse me, miss. Would you mind, following me?”
You frowned.
“Ahn…What for?”
“Mr. Wayne wishes to speak to you” She explained and her smile somehow grew wider.
Standing there for a few seconds, all you could do was nod as you followed her through a long corridor. What was happening right now? He wants to speak to you? Bruce Wayne wishes to speak to a journalist in private? And more important, to you.
She opened a door to a breath-taking office.
Right in front of you was a full wall window, a panoramic view of Gotham in all its “glory”, skyscrapers, apartment buildings, the clock tower, the bridge of the river, the field behind the road, you could see everything from up there. There was a wooden desk in front of the window, quite empty, and a chair that looked more comforting than any other you had ever sat.
When the woman closed the door behind you, your attention changed to the man standing on your left. Bruce Wayne was staring at you dead in the eyes with a facial expression of someone who just saw a ghost.
This guy seriously need some sunbathing. You shook that thought out of your head.
“Mr. Wayne. You wanted to speak to me?”
“Yes” His raspy voice responded. “Sit, please”
You took a seat on one of the chairs in front of the chair and he sat opposite of you, behind the desk, diving completely into the velvet chair. He crosses his fingers and stares at you again. It made you a little uncomfortable, he did that a lot, like a hunter watching its prey.
“So…”
“I’ve searched your work. You’re really good.”
“Thank you, sir”
“You won a Pulitzer, am I right?”
“Yes, a few years ago”
When did he get the time to read all this information? It’s not like you’re super famous, even the Pulitzer wasn’t a very known prize if you didn’t know the industry.
“For a book about a serial killer in Detroit” He said, a voice that verged into an interrogation tone. “The Divine Move?”
You blinked a few times.
“I…Yes. Nathan Walters.”
He lifted his eyebrows just an inch, telling you to continue the story.
You cleared your throat.
“He uh, he used to be the altar boy of the neighbourhood church and he chose his victims based on the sins he supposed they’ve committed.” You’ve shorten it, you couldn’t understand why a billionaire was asking you about the modus operandi of a criminal who was thousands of miles away.  “Why are you asking me this, if I may ask, Mr. Wayne?”
“You’re an investigative journalist. Why are you attending press conferences of a random billionaire?”
You supressed a laugh. Random.
“I grew up here, sir. I’ve always admired your family work, I took the opportunity when it was offered to me.”
“You seem to know a lot about my family history.”
“Like I said, I’m just an admiring. Although, I once thought of writing a book about the Wayne Legacy. Your legacy, sir.”
“Your legacy, sir”.
Bruce looked down at his cufflinks, the W prominent on a silvery material.
His legacy.
He once thought the Wayne Foundation was his legacy. But now he knew, his true legacy came in a bat shaped suit and sleepless nights; it came on purple coloured bruises and blood stained clothes.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Well…it’s very hard to write about something when you only get superficial information.”
You were nervous, he could tell. You kept staring at the view behind him, or at your shoes, tanking a little too long to answer his questions. He wondered how could a journalist gets nervous, almost shy.
He gave you a puzzled look, not using any words to express his question. But you understood it.
“Using material that was wrote by someone else. All the records and stories about your parents have already been wrote by someone else before me, so I couldn’t say it was my work, could I?”
He hummed.
Bruce took a sigh. Maybe. Maybe this was a good idea, it could keep him in a good status with the press, plus, he’d be able to hide even further down his secret identity, having a journalist with him every day? No one would suspect his the Batman.
“There are stories and details that haven’t been told.”
You bit your lower lip.
He stared at you.
“What are you implying, sir?”
“If I tell you the stories, would you write it?”
“If I tell you the stories, would you write it?”
You almost passed out.
Would you?
Who could say they had a proposal like that? Dig into the secrets of the Wayne family?
“Yes”.
___________________
a/n2: aaaah this is actually so boring I'm so sorry, also I think I made bruce a little more talkative than I would've but anyways I may change it yet.
a special thank you to @preciouslandmermaid for inspiring me to finally write this!! <3
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i-am-baechu · 9 months
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♡ Summary: “Only thing that keeps us apart is a different timezone...” Yoongi loves touring and seeing his fans but he misses Y/N. There was this unsaid thing between them whenever he went on tour but that didn’t mean it was okay for him. He just missed her so damn much.
♡ Pairing: Established relationship; Yoongi x reader 
♡ Rating: Pg-14
♡ Genre: Fluff, romance, angst and a little spice 
The screaming was fading out as Yoongi walked backstage with a wide smile on his face. With each step he took though, the smile faded away. It was a great night in LA and he should feel proud of himself but there was this feeling in his chest. He knew what this feeling was but he ignored it...if you don’t acknowledge it then it won’t become a reality, right? He opened the door and sat on his couch in his dressing room with a blank expression. How can emotions change so fast? He leaned back as his head hit the frame and his eyes were on the white paint. He continued to stare until he heard his phone buzzing on the table. 
He got up and looked down to see the ID. A smile appeared as he accepted the call, “Hey babe. Isn’t it time for your nap?” 
“I should but how could I sleep? I wanted to see my rapper boyfriend kill it at his concert.”
He let out a small chuckle and sat back on the couch with his eyes back on the white paint, “You’ve seen it live. Isn’t that enough? You don’t have to see every concert.” 
“Shut up, yes I do.” 
“What are you doing right now?” 
“I was getting ready to go out with Joon. He wanted to do a hiking trail and I wanted new pictures.” 
He let out a small sigh and rubbed his forehead, “Please be careful. The last time you went you twisted your ankle.” 
“Babe, I’ll be fine. You must be so tired.”
“I feel okay. I'm a little tired but it's better than yesterday.” 
“Oh, Namjoon just came in. Do you want to say hi to him?”
Yoongi let out a small chuckle and got up from the couch with his hand in his pocket, “No, I talk to him all the time. You go have fun, text me when you get there.”
“I don’t want to leave you.”
“Baby, different time zones. I’m just going to crash when I get to the hotel to be honest.”
“Okay...I miss you so much. I love you.”
“I miss and love you more. I’ll talk to you later.” 
“Love you, bye~.” 
When the line went dead, he kept the phone next to his ear for a few more minutes. He missed her voice and just everything about her. It was really hard, especially on days like this. He put his phone in his pocket and let out a small groan, “Fucking hell.” There was a knock at the door and he didn’t move from his spot, “Come in.” 
The door opened and it was one of his security guards, “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah...I am.” 
The ride back to his hotel was silent with the radio playing at a low volume. He was staring outside the window and was watching the stars follow him. He couldn’t help but smile when he remembered his first date with Y/N.
Y/N and Yoongi have been friends for years. They met in highschool and kept in touch when he became a member of Bts. He had a crush on her during school but he never said anything to her because deep inside, he knew she would never like him. She would pinch his cheeks and call him cute, that was a clear sign that he was only a friend. He was busy with music and she was busy with her programming job. It wasn’t the right moment.
It was three years ago when he finally asked her out. It was by accident(ish?). He was leaving his studio to go to the practice room after Hoseok texted him multiple times to hurry up. He entered the room and he was stumped with a loud laugh. He looked around the corner to see Y/N leaning her head against Taehyung as she laughed at what he presumed to be a joke. Y/N was close with all the members and there were some moments that made him mad. When Jungkook would hold her hand at random times, Jin cooking with her, Jimin taking her out to eat, Taehyung making her laugh more than anyone else, Namjoon taking her on hikes and Hoseok teaching her dance moves. They spent so much time with her and that made him happy but boy did it annoy him.
Y/N looked up and waved at him. She got up from the floor and ran up to him with a small smile, “Yoongi, you didn’t text me today.” 
“Sorry, I was working on a song.”
“You're always working...I wanted to go out with you.” 
He raised his eyebrow and glanced at Jimin who was talking to Taehyung. He glanced back at her with a frown, “You always go out with Jimin.”
“I missed you.”
He felt his heart stop and his intrusive thoughts took over in the moment, “If you were my girlfriend then you can just be with me 24/7.” 
Her eyes widened at this and stared at him, “Girl-Girlfriend?”
“Fuck, I said that outloud.” 
“Yoongi, please tell me if that's true.”
He looked away from her longing eyes and sighed, “If it’s true...what would you say?”
“I would say I want you to be my boyfriend.”
Yoongi whipped his head back and it was his turn to look at her with wide eyes, “Wh-What?”
“I want you to be my boyfriend.” 
“Are you serious?” 
“Very...”
He grabbed her wrist and waved at the members, “I’ll be back.”
Namjoon raised his eyebrow and put his bottle back on the floor, “Where are you going?”
“Taking my girlfriend on a date.” 
He left the room before he could hear their responses. Y/N was walking behind him with a smile as she intertwined their fingers together as he kept looking forward. They sat at a private part of the park as they looked up to see the stars on full display. She looked at him with a small smile, “How long have you liked me?”
“Since highschool...”
Her eyes widened at this, “Really?” 
He felt his face get hot as he looked away from her, “Yeah.” 
She gently turned her head to have him look at her. She kissed the tip of his nose and let out a small laugh, “Min Yoongi, I've liked you since I met you.” 
Yoongi looked at her and let out a laugh, “So, I was just being an idiot.” 
“We both are.”
He gently cupped her face making her look at him with a nervous glint. He leaned forward and she did the same. Before he put his lips on hers, he opened his eyes to take a final glance. Her eyes closed and her face flushed, it was a sight he will remember. He leaned in to close the distance between them and he finally felt her soft lips. He turned his head and she gladly accepted his tongue. Their tongues fought for what felt like hours and he brought her into his lap. He brought his hands on her ass to bring her more but she leaned away with a red face and lips shining  away, “How can you be so shameless? We're in public.” 
He rolled his eyes and started kissing her neck as she let out a small moan, “I finally got you. You think I give a fuck what others think.” 
“Yo-Yoongi!” 
He groped her ass to make her grind against him, “Should we go back to my place so I can show you how much I like you.” 
“Yeah, you should. I don’t want someone seeing us.” 
“Okay, let’s go.” 
Yoongi entered his hotel and threw himself on the bed. He stared at the white paint and let a small smile appear, “I’ll see you soon...soon.” 
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faeriekit · 4 days
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Health and Hybrids (XXI)👽👻💚
[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]
🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.
💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)
Where we last left off... Wonder Woman! Robin! Impulse! Danny! Dick drawings! Who says that occupational therapy and learning a second language can't be fun?
Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.
💚👻👽👻💚
EXTRA TW for: vomiting, panic attacks (this chapter only)
Danny can hold a spoon now. He is unstoppable.
So, when the lady isn’t there to feed him dinner (more mush), one of the not-the-lady nurses gives Danny a tray, and lays a mat over his lap so that he can eat without completely messing up his bedsheets.
Eat he does. Slowly. Maybe a little messily, and it’s kind of embarrassing to have to admit to himself that food definitely spills out of his mouth and onto his lap. The doctor/nurse/medical person, whoever they are, turns on the television, and Danny doesn’t try to ask for the remote. The television only gets something like ten channels, and none of them are cartoons at lunch hour.
So. News it is.
Most of the news follows the same cycle; the weather, sports teams Danny can now recognize the colors of, traffic cameras, and events with long, scrolling text to detail the happenings onscreen. There’s something about dogs? That’s fun. The scientist/nurse/tech, whoever they are, says something in the tone of Aaw, aren’t they cute? as puppies run about and wrestle on screen.
Danny kind of misses Cujo. He picks at his bedsheet, and doesn’t say anything.
The dog program transitions away— there’s a bright banner in its place. Danny’s seen it before: it’s something to the equivalent of Breaking News. It’s usually weather, or crime, or something.
Um. But it’s not that. Danny’s spoon drops, because a ROBOT LADY lights up the screen with a glistening silver suit, not unlike the Ecto-Skeleton his parents used to keep in the basement. Or, well…this one might be more streamlined?
Danny shifts. He can’t help. He’s here, in the hospital. Or. Uh. The space…hospital. His body is very broken.
But there’s a robot lady wrecking a town on Earth.
And Danny can fly.
…Could fly. Could have flown. If he was. Well.
Danny’s not well, and his body aches and his hands don’t work and his legs work even less, but there’s people out there who need help. People who are getting shot at with rays and Danny can fight them, and humans can’t. Danny can help. He—
His core throbs. Danny chokes. He pulls at his chest, trying to find some kind of purchase on his medical gown to tug himself—up?? Out?? He can’t fly right now, but maybe—?
“Whoah, whoah, whoah, abide, abide.”
Danny grits his teeth. “Look!” he snaps, and jams a finger at the television. “There’s—look! There’s a giant robot out there punching buildings!”
“Wacie,” the human protests, but at least turns up the volume so that Danny can see better. “Wacie, þær eart firas þær nou.”
What does that mean?!
Danny hasn’t lifted himself in forever. His legs don’t work, but his arms…might.
He presses his palms down to the mattress. He pushes.
There is a liberated fraction of a second where Danny’s whole weight is on his arms.
—And then he comes crashing back to reality, his elbows snapping back into place. His butt slams back onto the bed and the whole frame jitters.
Danny pants. His arms quake.
The medic completely barrels through Danny’s usually meticulously-kept personal bubble, trying to make sure Danny didn’t dislodge his IV or rip his ligaments and tendons or tear his muscles or. Something. Danny barely notices, barely cares, because someone else blasts onto the television screen in a red bathing suit and gold boots.
And suddenly, both the people on screen are fighting. It’s brilliant. It’s bloody—it’s physical, in the way that flesh and bone and metal must be. Danny’s never seen serious fighting like that before.
And the new woman flies.
Danny stares.
She flies. She fights. She wins—narrowly dodging or displacing lasers with something shiny on her arms, and getting long hair singed in the process. In the end, the robot is tethered down with some kind of shiny metal rope, screaming and kicking all the way.
…Danny barely remembers to choke in air. That's so cool.
The medical person says something reassuring, but Danny’s too tired to listen. He watches this new woman take her applause, floating down on nothing but air to meet the reporter and answer questions. She looks poised. Confident. People clap. People shout things out. People smile. People cheer.
…No one is screaming. No one is running.
There are no ghost hunters in the crowd.
Danny’s exhale is manual. So is his inhale. His heart monitors are making all sorts of funky pictures most likely, but that’s not his business—he watches a woman in armor who flies take off into the sky, free to come and go as she pleases.
It…it hurts. It’s so beautiful and so peaceful and gentle and it hurts so much.
His eyes well up with tears. Why did she get this? This…niceness? Everyone had hated him when he'd tried to help—the teachers, Vlad, the town, his parents. They’d hated him! All he ever wanted to do was help like she did!
What made him so different?! Why was it Danny who got hunted down and shot at? Why was it Danny who got kidnapped and taken hostage?!
Tears burn his eyes like fire. It’s got to be the salt. Danny’s strangled whine turns into a choked off sob before he can catch it. His hand goes to his mouth, but he can’t stifle the noise.
He doesn’t want to. He wants to cry. He thinks he deserves it.
The tears come until he is sobbing, crying, wailing—because WHY WHY WHY was it so easy to hurt him?! WHY DID THEY HURT HIM, WHY DID MOM HURT HIM, HE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG!
A towel appears in his hand. They’re so nice to him here. So much nicer than when Mom and Dad had—
Danny’s cries are as much screams as they are anything else.
There are hands on his shoulder. On his back. Rubbing. Danny wants to shove them off but the lady isn’t here, which means that it’s one of the staff-members who isn’t supposed to touch him. They’re not supposed to touch him in case Danny hurts them but one of them gave Danny a clean towel to scream into and is rubbing his back because he’s crying.
They’re trying to be so nice and gentle but EVERYONE JUST WANTS TO HURT HIM.
They’re smart, though. They notice before Danny does, and have a bucket ready by the time heaving sobs turn into outright vomiting.
At least the mush mostly makes it into the bucket.
*
…So.
Having a breakdown…sucks.
Danny has to carefully brush his teeth with an extra-soft bristle brush and rinse out his mouth before he gets more water.
Someone is being very nice. There’s artificial fruit punch flavoring in his drink. He wants to feel grateful but he mostly feels dead.
…His eyes slide listlessly across the room. Ha. Dead.
Danny is horizontal and wrung dry and too tired to do anything but pant by the time the lady comes back to his room. She’s in quicker than usual—her gown is sort of sloppy, hair sticking out of her hair net, and she’s still looping her mask around her ear.
She gets down on her knees beside his bed. She asks him if he’s alright.
Danny’s not alright. He isn’t sure he’s been alright in…ages. Ages and ages. Before he was trapped and tied down. Before he was hated. Reviled.
…Before he was Phantom, maybe; before Danny Fenton had died a shocking, senseless death.
Tears try to wring themselves out of his aching eyeballs, but he’s too dry-eyed to cry; the lady make sad, wet eyes for him, and that’s probably enough between the two of them. Danny’s misery is a vast, gaping void, and all he has to show for it is the shovel he’s been digging through all this shit with for the last few years.
The lady brings her hands closer to his hairline, curled fingers hovering in the air. Her word’s don’t mean anything to him, but the gesture is clear: May I?
“…Mm,” Danny agrees. His eyes fall closed when she gently scratches at his scalp with her fingers.
No one’s touched him gently, on purpose, in…ages. When he was little, Dad used to pop him between him and Mom in bed. Mom would brush out Danny’s bangs with her fingers and Dad would hum. It was always something ill-fitting and silly. Guns N’ Roses. Led Zepplin. Santana. Sometimes Jazz would sit with them, crushing him until Dad had to pull him up and out of harm’s way.
In the quarantine lab, hurting him had just been part of the scientific process. What if there was some new discovery under his fat layer? On the other side of his ribs? Nestled between his alveoli?
Danny sniffles. He’s too dry to cry. He blinks invisible dust off of his eyelashes, and focuses on the weird lady who’s with him now.
Up close, when his eyes work, she looks nice. She has blue eyes, like him. Like Dad. They’re kinda…glowy, maybe? Sparkly? They remind him of ice in the Far Frozen—inhumanly brisk, and impossibly clean. She has eye crinkles where she smiles, tan skin making them more defined than their actual depth. Between her hair net and her medical mask, little wisps of black baby hairs shine through.
She pets him. She smiles. Danny isn’t sure why, but. Whatever. Jazz used to insist that human skin-to-skin contact was an essential need, so this is probably, like, also medical care.
Yeah. Danny squints. …Sure.
Whatever. It’s nice.
So Danny gets petted and it’s fine. He almost doesn’t notice the giant gauntlet under the paper sleeve of her gown, but then it’s right in his field of vision, and. Hey. Didn’t he see that on TV, like, an hour ago?
Danny stares.
He can’t actually tell if they’re gold under the pale blue color of the gown, but. The color is certainly some sort of unusually colored metal, cold to the touch even through the paper-like material of the gown.
…He doesn’t want to touch her, or let her know that he’s touching her. But. He brushes the back of his wrist against the bracelet, and it hums against the paper gown between it and his bare skin.
The lady blinks. She looks down at where they made contact, and asks him if he’s alright.
Danny looks away.
She knows she saw him reach out to her, though, so she takes her hand off of his hair (…hey…) and pulls back the sleeve on her gown. “Sest,” she offers. See?
It is the same kind of bracer he saw on TV. Up close he can see the designed etched into it—geometric lines stretching down from her fingers to her elbow, terminating in something structural. Not quite diamonds. Just…strong.
There’s a couple of very, very tiny letters down towards the bottom. His eyes strain when they try to make any sense out of them; they’re too small for him to actually focus on, which sucks.
She steps back, and pushes her sleeves down to show off her gold bracers. She lifts up the hem of her gown, revealing red boots that go waaaay up her thigh. They have the same gold metalwork as she does on the bracers.
Danny just saw those on the television. His eyes widen.
“You—“ he starts, and then remembers their difference in language. He points his hand at the television. “You fought? You were on TV?”
“Hwæt?”
“The TV?” Danny repeats. She doesn’t understand. Danny doesn’t know how to tell her what he means. “The…you were there?”
She looks at him to expand. Danny looks back at her.
…So they just stare at each other silently.
The door cracks open; the person who’d mediated Danny’s breakdown pokes their head in and says something. “Eower feoht wæs an þe box todæge.”
The lady blinks. Danny blinks. Wait. Did they just call the television the box?
“…Box?” Danny clarifies, and lifts a hand to shakily point at the television again.
The lady blinks, and grins. “Yea!” she returns, pumped up. She stands, to the powerful height she’d had on the television—excuse him, the box—and flexes her now-exposed arms to show off massive biceps.
Holy moly. Danny hasn’t seen any bigger biceps on his Dad.
She flexes one arm, the other, both—in front, and behind. If Danny had that much definition, he’d be showing off too! She leaps back impossibly far—and holy crap she can fly— to show off some mock punches at invisible enemies at speeds that Danny would be hard pressed to follow even with supernatural abilities.
He goggles.
She laughs at him, but she doesn’t sound mean—she sounds show-boating and silly, and teasing and playful, but not mean.
She’s like him. She’s not a ghost but she flies and she’s not human. She’s not human just like Danny. Just like that one green guy. Like the fast kid who visits him.
It’s such a relief. It’s so scary. Who are these people? Why are they healing him? Why are they keeping him?? Why do they have access to so many non-human people? What do they want him for? Is Danny supposed to fight like that?
He would fight. If he had to. He’s done it before.
If they make him fight, Danny’s pretty sure he’s going to fall apart like cheap glass.
The lady comes back when Danny goes quiet, her gloved fingers brushing up against his knuckles. The sensation is enough to bring Danny out of his…fog. Sometimes everything is so cloudy and vague. The pain medicine makes it go away, and the pain medicine brings it back.
Danny curls his hand into a shaking fist. He bumps her knuckles against his.
She makes a surprised noise. Danny feels her gently move his fingers, rearranging, moving where his thumb goes—
He huffs out a laugh. His fist wasn’t good enough to her standards. Her fist bump meets his in the middle with a smirk and a laugh, victory written all over her face.
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milaisreading · 11 months
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Hi, thank you for your work! may I ask you for fic about manager meets bllk boys's parents/siblings and they either think that manager and their soon/brother are dating or just want to be their wingman(woman)? and boys are embarrassed.
Author: Thank u sm for reading! And thank you for this request too, I really enjoyed writing this one! Hope you like it🩷
Warnings ⚠️: none in particular. Reader uses she/her. Requests are open
Characters: Isagi, Reo, Chigiri, Bachira and Rin
⚽️Blue lock belongs to: Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️
Isagi:
"So Blue Lock is becoming something like a reality program? And Ego-san agreed to it?" Isagi asked as both him and (Y/n) were facetiming each other. Last night Anri informed (Y/n) of the new idea the JFU and Ego agreed on. They both found the idea rediculous, having the whole of Japan and maybe even beyond monitor all their work and training was just... bizarre.
"Yeah." (Y/n) answered, biting into one of the cookies her dad left on the counter.
"It sounds so rediculous, I wouldn't wish to be you guys. The whole idea of someone watching me training is bad, but having millions of people do so..." (Y/n) cringed, an act that made Isagi blush a little.
"Cute..." He muttered.
"What?"
"I-I mean... Yeah it sounds very scary. I still can't believe it will be a thing."
While Isagi tried to pull himself out of the mess he made, he didn't notice his mom walk into the room and her hearing the name '(Y/n)' come out of his mouth. The woman's eyes lit up and she walked over to Isagi.
"Oh! You are (Y/n) (L/n), right?" Isagi jumped at the sound of his mom's voice.
"Huh? I am, good evening ma'am." (Y/n) answered in a startled manner, confused how this woman knew her name.
"Mom? What are you doing here?" Isagi asked, flustered from being caught.
"In the living room?" The woman laughed and turned to look at (Y/n).
"It's so nice to finally meet Yoichi's girlfriend. You are just as lovely as Yoichi described you." The said boy felt his face grow pale and his world crashing.
'Mom?!'
"Girlfriend?! No ma'am, Isagi and I are just friends-"
"No need to hide from me that. I can see it from the way Yoichi talks about you! I can already heat the wedding bells-"
"Alright,(Y/n) we need to go! I will talk with you later!" Yoichi said quickly and the girl nodded, too embarrassed to say anything. Once the call was over Isagi took a few deep breaths, then flinching as his mom pinched his cheeks.
"Why so rude, Yoichi? I wanted to talk with her, she really seems lovely."
"Mom, please (Y/n) and I aren't dating... we are just friends..." Isagi said, trying to calm his mom down.
The woman kept quiet for a moment and the nodded her head.
"I see how it is... My little Yoichi is embarrassed talking about his relationship!"
"What?! Mom, no-"
"I will leave you and pretend you don't have a girlfriend... for now! But you better bring (Y/n) over here soon."
"We are not dating-"
Isagi bit his tongue and his mom giggled at him.
'I do wish (Y/n) was my girlfriend though... I hope I didn't lose my chances tonight...' Isagi sighed as he looked down at his phone.
Reo:
When (Y/n) agreed to meet up with the purple-haired boy she expected them to visit an arcade and fast food restaurant. And while the first part did happen, the second part was more jarring. Instead of going to a local fast food place, Reo brought her to a very high-end expensive restaurant, where some waiters were oddly familiar with him.
"I really don't think we should eat here. I am sure there are other, cheaper places." (Y/n) said as the boy kept pulling her to their seats.
"Huh? Do you not like this one? I know a better restaurant down the road-"
"N-no... I meant this place is a little bit over my budget..." (Y/n) admitted, embarrassed as she looked around the place, but Reo paid no mind and sat her down, then he took the chair opposite of hers.
"Don't be rediculous, I am paying anyways."
"What? No, please don't-"
"(Y/n), you are doing a lot for us at Blue Lock and I really want to thank you somehow. You never ask for anything, just let yourself go." Reo said calmly as he sent (Y/n) one of his grins, the girl wanted to protest again, but a woman's voice stopped her.
"Reo? What are you doing here-oh?"
The boy's eyes widened as the duo looked up to find the heir's mother looked at them in shock. The boy gulped, recognizing the look she sent him and (Y/n) just felt awkward.
"Good afternoon, ma'am." The girl spoke up awkwardly and Reo felt like he wanted to die the moment his mom grinned at (Y/n).
"Reo, why did you never introduce me to your little girlfriend? She looks lovely. Hello dear, is my son treating you right? I hope he is being a gentleman-"
"M-mom you got it wrong. (Y/n) here and I are just-"
"(Y/n)? Finally I can put a face to the name." The older woman grinned and leaned down to the girl's eye-level.
"My son loves you a lot, he talks about you whenever he has the chance."
"I... Thank you?" (Y/n) said nervously and looked between her and Reo, who felt like dying in that moment.
'Talk about having no luck...'
The woman then spoke up again.
"I will be going now. Have fun you two, and Reo don't be stingy, we will talk about this tonight too."
The flustered teens looked at each other as the woman left and Reo started profusely apologizing.
'Wonderful... mom ruining my chances with (Y/n) wasn't on my plan today.'
Chigiri
There are two things Chigiri knows about his sister: 1. She is very beautiful and 2. She can be quite a handful when it comes to his love life. He didn't know which one he hated the most, the part where random dudes would ask for his sister's number or the one he was witnessing right now. Manshine city was having their first match this season, and the redhead decided to invite his mom, sister and (Y/n) to the game. The last one caused him to get death stares from Reo and Nagi, as they wanted to be the ones to invite her. And at the current moment he really wished he wasn't faster than the two.
It was half time right now and both teams were on their break when Chigiri's phone started to go off. In confusion he read through the messages, when his face started turning into a horrified one.
His dear sister had somehow started chatting with (Y/n) during the game and after finding out who she was, the older sibling decided to be the wingwoman for him.
'She is so sweet, Hyoma! Don't worry, with my matchmaking skill I will get you both together in no time!'
'Sis please don't do this to me now! It's humiliating and you are probably making (Y/n) uncomfortable.'
'Don't be rediculous she is enjoying the stories mom and I have been saying about you.'
'Mom is in on it too?!'
'Of course! Anyways, I need to come up with some strategies rn. Talk to you after the game... Btw (Y/n) told me she finds your gameplay today extraordinary good.'
Chigiri read the last message and inwardly sighed, knowing he will later have to deal with all the possible misinformation his sister or mom said. But one thing he loved about the older right now, was her telling him the last part. It was a good boost to his ego.
'If she found that impressive, wait for what else I have in store.'
Bachira:
"Meguru, my dear you did a phenomenal job! I am so proud of you!" The yellow-eyed boy grinned as his mother gave him a tight hug. It was right after Blue Lock finished their match with the U-20 and the boy still had so much adrenaline in his system. He felt like on top of the world after Isagi scored then the final point, he loved it. Loved the defeated look on the JFU and the U-20 team, the cheers and praises and he loved the look of joy (Y/n) had sent them from the benches. It was a look he will cherish forever and the one he will do his best to see again and again. He talked to his mom for a bit and the conversations they had were rather normal, until someone caught the older woman's eyes.
"Oh! Is that the girl you are crushing on? (Y/n), right?" Bachira froze in his spot and told his mom to be a little quiet, since he didn't want her to know that... well, not yet at least.
"Aww my baby is all grown up now, by the way she is coming over here. Be on your best behavior and let me deal with it."
"She is what? And what do you mean deal-"
"Bachira, Ego-san said we need to pack up." The boy slowly turned to look at (Y/n) and gulped nervously.
"A-alright! Let me just say-"
"You are (Y/n) (L/n), right? My son told me so much about you!"
Cursing to himself, Bachira watched in horror as (Y/n) turned her attention to his mom.
"Yes, you must be his mom. Bachira said a lot of great things about you to me. I heard you like to paint!"
"Yes! It's a big passion of mine, are you into any arts form?"
"Well, I do like literature and music. But painting is interested as well..."
Bachira felt his tension ease a little as he watched the two converse and slowly tye panic formed into relief. He really hoped they would get along and by the looks of it his prayers were answered. Although his mom would drop off some embarrassing statements about him, it looked like (Y/n) didn't mind.
'Maybe I could handle mom being a wingwoman... she seems to know what she is doing.'
Rin:
"Ahhh that's so adorable! You two are like the Romeo and Juliette of football, Rin." The boy spat out the water he was drinking and looked at his mom in disbelief. He was slowly regretting inviting his parents to the match PXG had with Bastard München.
"Mom, the heck? Don't say that so casually!"
"Language, Rin! And I have a point, both your dad and I saw the way you were sending her looks during the game, especially when you would score." His mom said while his father was chuckling from behind her.
"No, I wasn't! The sun was just annoying me." The boy said, clearly not believing the excuse himself.
"It was such a cute thing to see. I never expected you to have a crush and on the rival team's manager at that." His mom continued speaking as his father nodded his head.
"Well, the boy started crushing on her while they still were on the team." His father argued and Rin felt like dying any second.
"Regardless, can you invite (Y/n) to have lunch with us 3 tomorrow?" His mom asked.
"Why would I do that? She probably has better things to do, anyways." Rin said back, he normally had a lot more patience than this.
"Just ask her, Rin. You clearly like her, don't waste your chances. "
"Well...I..."
"It was an order, Rin." His father said more strictly now and the boy sighed in defeat.
"Alright, I will text her later. She is busy right now." Rin said, sounding bitter as he pointed at the girl, who was talking to Kaiser and Isagi over God knows what.
"Great!" His mom said and Rin didn't like the look she had on her face, he knew she was planning something awfully humiliating.
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hopelesslyromanticgay · 9 months
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I Fell For Her (literally)
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Jenna Ortega X Fem!reader
Summary: Jenna meets Y/N at a fan event
Y/N's POV
Tonight was finally the night.
I grew up watching her on TV. At first it was just in commercials, but she slowly became more and more integrated into my TV programs.
When she got her own show, Stuck in the Middle, I started to pay more and more attention to her. I kept watching all of the projects she was in. The scream movies, X, The Fallout, You, American Carnage, and of much of her interviews and PR events. I've practically grown up alongside her.
She has no idea who I am, though.
Tonight, that's going to change.
Tonight I am going to meet Jenna Ortega.
...
I pull up to the expo right about when it starts, making sure I have my tickets.
I spend the first few hours looking at all of the merch and talking to other people at the event. everyone's so excited for the panel with the cast of Wednesday.
The panel itself was exciting, and I loved getting to see the cast live. Even if it was from far way.
After the panel, people run out of the convention space in a blur, practically climbing on top of each other.
It's loud, people are screaming, and the space reeks of weed and booze. 
It takes me forever just to get out of the building. By the time the people part and I can make a exit, I run for it. I need to get out.
I make it out of the area, but not without violently colliding with someone. I fall to the floor, directly on top of someone
"I'm so sorry!" I say quickly, "I didn't see you there."
"Don't worry about it," the girl under me says. I look down to see the girl I fell onto is non other than Jenna Marie Ortega. Shit. I scramble up to my feet, I can see her security team making it's way towards me. 
"Oh my god, can I help you up?" I ask. She's even prettier in person.
"I'm good, but thank you," she smiles, getting to her feet, "what's your name."
"I'm Y/n," I tell her, shaking her hand.
"Miss Ortega, is this girl causing you any trouble?" her team finally catches up to us.
"No not at all, it was an honest mistake," she tells them. I sigh in relief.
"Don't worry, I'm not one of your haters. Actually like the exact opposite. I'm such a huge fan, I've seen all of you projects!" I ramble, "you're like one of my favorite people. Oh my god I can't believe I crashed into you, I'm so so sorry."
"It's fine," she laughs, "I'm so glad I could meet such a devout fan." she gestures to my Tara Carpenter final girl T shirt.
"Oh my god, this is so embarrassing," I laugh awkwardly.
"Believe me, you're a lot better than some of my fans," she assures me.
"Why thank you."
"Well of course," she goes along with the old-timey politeness.
"Miss Ortega, your car is here," her guard informs her.
"Oh, of course. Well, Y/N, it was so nice to meet you! Maybe I'll see you some time soon!"
"Maybe!"
Oh my god. I can't believe I had a whole conversation with Jenna Ortega. 
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zennryu · 7 months
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In your care — 707 x reader
Note: Am I addicted to Saeyoung Choi and the sick reader trope? Yes. Yes I am.
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"Y/n?" was all that the members kept asking in the chatroom as they wondered where you went. You were in the middle of explaining the theme for the next party before you just...stopped replying.
"Shit." Seven muttered as he glanced at your passed out body from the cctv. Not even bothering to change from his pajamas and bed hair (or think about the consequences aka Vanderwood), he hurriedly drove to your apartment using the fastest among his babies.
"Y/n..?" he called out once getting inside Rika's apartment only to find your body still passed out in the same place he saw minutes ago.
He rushed to your side immediately checking your pulse and breathing. His moment of relief was short-lasting as he realized you were down with a heavy fever.
Carrying you over to your bed, he immediately looled around your kitchen for anything he could prepare for you before beaming at the sight of cup noodles (yes. thats the best you're going to get from his cooking skills)
"Saeyoung?" you called weakly as you caught a glimpse of a blurry red figure approaching you. "Oh good you're awake. Come on eat up." he motioned as he handed you your cup noodles.
Feeling too tired to eat, you immediately shook your head and covered yourself under the covers. "Agent 606 you need to eat!" he exclaimed.
"Come on~ The world needs your help agent! The plane is gonna crash!" The playfully exclaimed as he motioned the spoon of soup towards you like an airplane.
"Left them all die for all I care!" you whined. "Come on save atleast a few~" he insisted but you kept your mouth shut.
"Muah!"
You felt his lips on your forehead and gaped at him in shock as you felt your jaw drop. Grinning to himself, Seven entered the spoon inside your mouth before lifting your chin to close it. "Mission accomplished agent 606! Good job!"
You felt your cheeks grow warmer as you swallowed the soup.
"I know you're busy Saeyoung. Thanks for taking care of me." you mumbled as Saeyoung lifted the blanket higher to cover your neck.
"You really are...pretty handsome.." you mumbled tiredly as you looked at him one last time before dozing off.
Seven felt his inner programming start to malfunction at your words and suddenly felt his cheeks heat up. Why is it suddenly so hot in here?
.
.
.
"It's cause you have a fever!" you exclaimed as you woke up to a heavily sweating Saeyoung by your side and checked his temperature.
"Wear a mask next time alright!" You exclaimed before letting him lay on your bed.
"Achoo! But then you won't get to see my handsome face!"
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rebelwrites · 6 months
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Four: This Is a Matter Of Life Or Death
Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)
Till The Wheels Fall Off Masterlist
Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?
A/N: I know I disappeared off the face of the earth and the reason for that is my business went viral last week, we sold 600 f1 driver advent boxes and had around 450 orders within a couple of days 🥺 so all of my time is working on making the boxes and items for orders
As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️
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Leaning against the headboard I couldn’t tear my gaze from the laptop screen, everything about this evening was playing on my mind. The main thing was Chibs’ words, they were ringing loud in my head, “you never know who might be in the bar tonight.”
I felt like I had been waiting an eternity for this stupid laptop to load the security camera program, all I saw on the screen was the fucking blue circle of doom. Growling in frustration, I pushed the laptop off my knees, rolling out of bed using the torch on my phone to guide me making sure I didn’t wake anyone up. There was only one thing that was going to get me through the night and that was a strong cup of black coffee and knowing my luck the laptop would take about another hour to load up.
Why couldn’t it work when I needed it to?
I could have used the app on my phone but the image would be too small for me to confirm if everything was true. Running my fingers through my messy hair I carefully navigated the dark hallway, trying to dodge the piles of laundry and trainers that were scattered about, making a mental note that the Tellers needed to get better at laundry and maybe some laundry hampers whilst we were at it.
As I made it to the kitchen, I pushed the thoughts of the housework out of my mind, I let out a sigh of relief as I switched the under cabinet light on, I had successfully made it downstairs without waking anyone.
I needed to know the truth, was Charles Leclerc in my bar or not?
Swiping Jax’s crumpled pack of smokes from the countertop I slipped outside onto the back patio, the only sound that could be heard was the crickets in the forest. In a way it was relaxing but also extremely creepy. Most days I found myself waking up before the sun. No matter how exhausted I was, I always spent an hour before I needed to start getting ready for work snuggled under a blanket on the outdoor sofa with a large mug of coffee and a pack of cigarettes.
It was the only time I didn’t have anyone asking me things or needing me to do something.
Ever since Elenor was born I had gotten used to being the glue that held everything together. Family meant everything to me so if someone needed me I was there without a second thought, even though I was never rarely alone I still found myself getting lonely if I spent too long contemplating life whilst watching the sunrise. So I tried to limit my time to only an hour a morning otherwise the voices in my head got too loud.
Placing the cigarette between my teeth I let my eyes flutter closed as I lit it, I kept telling myself I would quit but I just couldn’t bring myself to ditch the habit. There was something about stepping outside to have a smoke that calmed me down no matter the situation. Leaning against the brick wall I let out a pathetic laugh, realizing the moment I got home I automatically put on my Ferrari hoodie. If it was true, we had two formula one drivers staying in town there was no way I was going to be seen wearing team merch.
The beeping from the kitchen pulled me from my thoughts. Taking one final drag, I tossed the half-smoked cigarette into the metal pot that was kept by the back door, slipping back inside, making sure to lock up before pouring myself a large mug of black coffee.
Soon enough I found myself back on my bed, the laptop sitting on top of the duvet, my legs crossed whilst I waited for the program to load.
Finally, the damn thing opened up, the main screen of the program was staring back at me causing my heart rate to spike, this was the moment of truth as I moved the cursor over to the playback section. Taking a deep breath, I finally took the courage to get the information that would put my mind at ease. Scrolling through the day I let the footage play from the moment me and Jax left for the dirt track. I couldn’t pull my eyes from the screen as I watched the events of this evening unfold before me.
I practically felt my heart stop the moment two guys walked into the bar, the image wasn’t the best because of someone blocking the view but in my heart I knew it was them. I had spent way too many years watching them on TV as they went around the paddock, doing press conferences and interviews to not recognise them.
Pausing the footage I squeezed my eyes closed, taking a few deep breaths. Pops wasn’t losing his mind and Bobby was telling the truth. I felt like an idiot for not believing them. The room felt like it was spinning as I pressed play again, the moment I came on screen reciting the commentary I wanted the ground to open up, swallowing me whole. I had made a complete fool of myself and there he was, Charles Leclerc, watching intently as I did so.
Why the fuck didn’t Chibs tell me he was in the bar when I asked him if there was anything I should know?
I was about to slam the laptop closed when something made me pause. I felt my eyes fill with tears as I watched Charles and Pierre chat with Pops like they had been lifelong friends. I had no idea what they were talking about but seeing Pops talk with his hands, along with the large smile that was on his face caused my chest to tighten. It had been months since I saw him like this, this year's storm season had taken its toll on all of us.
Slamming the laptop closed I felt like I wanted to scream. The sound of my alarm screeching from beside me caused me to tap my phone screen, squinting at the brightness, realizing I had been up all night, completely losing track of time from replaying the security footage back for the last couple of hours. Running my hands over my face, I let out a heavy sigh knowing I needed to be at the cafe to get everything set up for opening within the next hour and a half, at least I was in the right place to keep downing coffee.
First, I needed to go strangle a certain Scottsman.
The next hour flew by and before I knew it I found myself standing on Chibs’ front porch, my fist pounding against the wooden door, not caring who I woke up.
“Filip Telford, get you fucking ass out here now!” I shouted up to the open window, which I knew was his bedroom. I didn’t stop knocking on the door until he finally appeared in front of me, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. I didn’t care that I had just woken him or the entire neighborhood up, I needed answers.
“You better have a good reason for not telling Charles fucking Leclerc was in my bar last night?” I snapped, pushing by him letting myself into his house.
“Nova, it is the middle of the night,” Chibs huffed, softly closing the door behind me.
“Actually, it’s four forty-five,” I said, rolling my eyes, “now quit avoiding my question.”
“Lass, this isn’t life or death!” he said with a god damn smirk, knowing it would just piss me off.
“You know damn well that to me this is a matter of life or death, I walked into the bar reciting commentary word for fucking word and you did nothing to stop me.”
“Take a breath,” he whispered, placing his hands on my shoulders, stopping me from wearing out his flooring by pacing around the kitchen. “I tried to drop hints, but you weren’t getting them. We didn’t tell you because we all knew how you would act.”
“I would have acted cool, calm and collected,” I defended, receiving nothing but a raised brow from Chibs. “Fine, okay I would have lost my shit,” I finally admitted.
“Exactly,” he laughed, taking a step back, “look Nova, the boys are staying for the summer break and I got the impression they wanted a low key get away. Somewhere they won’t get hounded as they walk the streets.”
My heart was racing as I let my fingers tangle into my hair, how was I meant to cope that there were two formula one drivers wandering around the town, let alone my favorite one, the one I had a massive crush on.
“This isn’t over, Telford!” I scolded, pushing my way past him. “I’ve gotta get to work,” reaching the front door I wrapped my fingers around the doorknob, letting out a heavy sigh, “this is gonna be a long fucking four weeks.”
I didn’t give him a chance to respond before I scurried out of the house; I was so close to freaking out it was unbelievable. I had no idea how I was going to get through the shift at the cafe, I was hoping that once I had opened up and a few of the girls had arrived, I could go home and get some sleep.
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“Did you get any sleep at all last night?” Jax asked, his expression showed how concerned he was about me as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder whilst I leant against the bar.
“Nope,” I admitted quietly, shaking my head. “I was planning on face planting my bed once the girls arrived at the cafe but it’s like the universe has it out for me right now.” I sighed, resting my head against my brother’s shoulder. “The supplier fucked up the delivery, only turning up with half of my order, apparently they are saying they brought what I selected. When I know damn well I didn’t miss anything off.”
Jax let out a heavy sigh, running his spare hand over his face. He knew the issues that had been happening with our main supplier and he was just as angry as me about it, especially when they were still charging us the full amount for half an order.
“Don’t worry about the supplier, Squirt, I will deal with them,” he said with a half smile on his face. “Promise me, you will get some sleep tonight. Pops is having a good day so clock off in a couple of hours.”
I knew Jax was trying to look after me but there was no way I could dip out of working the bar early. Especially when tonight was quiz night, it was something that everyone loved. Every week the place was busy with locals wanting to take part.
“Don’t even try to protest, me and Chibs can manage. Wendy and Nero have also said they can help out with the quiz so we have plenty of people to cope,” Jax hummed, pressing a kiss against the top of my head. “The last thing I need is my little sister burning herself out to the point she collapses from exhaustion, ending up in hospital again.”
“Awwww, you do care,” I teased, wiggling out of his grasp as the first group of locals piled into the bar.
“Let’s not go shouting it to the world. I do have a reputation to keep,” Jax smirked, crouching down to grab two beers out of the fridge. “Now how are you coping with Leclerc and Gasly being in town? Chibs said he thought you were going to kill him this morning?”
“How am I coping?” I scoffed, gladly accepting the beer from Jax. “How do you think I’m fucking coping?” I said, cocking my brow at him. “That’s the reason I didn’t get any sleep last night, everyone, including yourself, thought it would be a good idea to keep it from me.”
The reaction I got from Jax was one I wasn’t expecting, the bastard started laughing. “All I’m gonna say, Squirt, is we know how much you like Charles,” he winked, nodding his head to the main entrance of the bar, “speak of the devil, he’s just walked in.”
“Lord help me!” I pleaded, running my hand over my face.
It was like the weight of the world came crashing down on me, pinning me to the floor, I couldn’t move from the spot I was standing in. All I could do was watch Charles and Pierre stroll into the bar. I flashed them both a friendly smile; it was the only movement I could do right now.
They both scanned the room and as soon as they spotted Pops sitting in his booth with Elenor they made a b-line to him, instantly sliding onto the sofas, settling in like they had known JT for years. I didn’t miss the smile that Pops had, he was practically beaming, moving my gaze to Elenor, I swear she was going to burst as she realized who had joined them in the booth. Her eyes were as wide as saucers and she was physically buzzing with excitement. However, what shocked me the most was when Pops jumped up from his seat, full of life, guiding them all towards the bar.
“Just act normal, don’t freak out,” Jax whispered in my ear, before disappearing into the kitchen. Of course the asshole would abandon ship right now, leaving me to actually speak to them. Closing my eyes I focused on the noise of the room, trying to drown out the thumping sound of my heart.
Take a deep breath, girl, you got this.
Letting my eyelids flutter open I needed to find something to distract myself, scanning the bar I noticed some empty glasses were building up, leaning down I quickly grabbed the black plastic tub busying myself with removing them from the counter.
“Charles, Pierre, I would like you to meet my beautiful daughter,” Pops grinned as he approached the bar, before crouching down to lift Elenor onto the stool.
“Hey,” I said with my best customer service smile, one I had perfected over the years “What can I get you to drink?” the fact I didn’t stumble over my words surprised me.
“Can I get a beer, please?” Elenor said in her deepest voice possible.
“When you turn 21, my little cub,” I smirked, leaning over tapping her nose causing her to giggle. “Until then it’s fruit juice for you,” I hummed, reaching over and grabbing the plastic bottle from the mini fridge on the bar top before placing it in front of her.
“So boys, what’s your poison?” I asked, moving to grab Pops’ favorite mug. I didn’t need to ask him what he wanted, it was always black coffee.
“Just two beers please ma chérie my darling,” Charles said with a smile that made me feel weak at the knees. Thank fuck I was leaning against the bar otherwise I would have been a mess on the floor.
This was gonna be a long four weeks.
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@withmyteeth @chibsytelford @stillbreathin @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @celestialams @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @angywritesstuff @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @buendiabebeta @ferrarifwendvale @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @queenslife @panicforspec @inesramoss30 @justme2042 @liv67 @derpinathebrave @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @raaaaabzzz @mehrmonga @sbgal @fangirl-lb @pitconfirmbutton @oslokij @tall-tanned-tattoo @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @babypink224221
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vindikaetion · 5 months
Note
Trick or treat!! 🍬🐜…🐜…🐜….
Hehe you get TREAT! :)
I've had this in my google docs for a a few months while I work on a few other projects, so thought I might share. This is for @alkalinefrog 's Spiderman AU, which you can find here! <3 (Go check it out rn the art is SO GOOD)
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"How good are your reflexes?!" Hiccup suddenly shouted, cutting off the weird sort of stand-off between Spiderman and Hiccup's kidnapper.
The white eyes of Spiderman's mask squinted. "Superhuman?" he replied in confusion.
Okay, that somewhat alleviated some of Hiccup's concern over his absolutely batshit insane plan. Somewhat, being the key-word, because he was about to place his life in the hands of the quipping superhero who Hiccup's boss thought was a menace.
"No funny business," the man growled, tightening his fist. Hiccup let out a choked grunt as all the air in his lungs was forcibly pushed out, but he mustered all his strength and coherency to keep his hands covering the exposed circuitry. "Unless you want to meet the pavement face-to-face."
"Counting on it," Hiccup wheezed. Before the man could have a chance to prod him, Hiccup ripped out one of the many wires that programmed the suit to keep him hanging.
If anyone were to ask after the harrowing experience, Hiccup would tell them that he had very bravely kept his voice calm and even. The truth was, the moment gravity took hold and he went plunging to the ground, Hiccup shrieked;
"You better catch me!"
A beat passed, then two. Hiccup kept his eyes shut, every inch of his body tense. It would do little to help if Spiderman was unable to catch him, but human instincts cared little for realistics.
Hiccup had one other near death experience in his life. It was the same brush with death that had claimed his leg, and it oddly felt a lot like this. Weightless, with every sense focussed and sharp. As if an eternity decided to stand still in this very moment, with the sounds of sirens and shrieks in the air. Though it lacked the sound of honking and metal crashing, it was startlingly similar.
Except this time, instead of a solid impact sending his world into utter darkness, a firm yet soft body collided into his.
Hiccup's stomach lurched as the world suddenly swooped, forcing another shriek past his lips. Arms tightened around him.
Someone laughed beside his ear. "You're seriously crazy, but can't say I don't respect it."
Hiccup could hear the twipping of Spiderman's webs shooting between buildings and the relief in his voice. The most prominent sound was the wind whipping past their cheeks, but he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes.
"Thanks," he squeaked. He chanced opening his eyes, just to let out a rather embarrassing sound. All his pride went out the window, cinging to Spiderman with as much strength as he could muster in his scrawny body, eyeing the rapidly approaching ground in alarm. "Can't say I ever want to do this again, though."
"Great!" Spiderman said joyfully. "That makes two of us."
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bit-odd-innit · 1 year
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Fic: Somewhere That’s Green
[based on a post I made about Eddie’s future]
It’s a hole in the wall just off the main drag, the kind of place you can’t find unless you know to look. In a previous life it had been a pizzeria, which explained the bright green vinyl awning Eddie had no intention of replacing. He’d kept the pick-up window, too, used it to host “office hours.” (“Office hours” was supposed to mean “deliver personalized music recommendations to interested passers-by.” Now it means “help harried, double-parked parents reschedule music lessons.”) 
He’d also kept the apartment upstairs. They have a house now—a nice one, with a wrap-around porch and a big backyard and a cluster of hedges Steve always insists are “a mess”—but when Eddie trips into an inventory hole and loses track of time, it’s nice to have a place to crash. If it’s not a school night sometimes Steve joins him, and they’ll relive the halcyon days of their early twenties, buoyed by cheap beer, diner curly fries, and giddy infatuation. (The infatuation has only grown and flourished even as his tolerance for salty food has withered. Acid reflux is a bitch.)
He’s happy they kept the apartment. He happy knowing that if someone needs it—someone scared, broke, desperate for a lifeline and a scrap of no-strings-attached kindness—it’s something he can provide. 
Initial plans had been to focus on music, just music. It was supposed to be the utopic all-metal record store of Eddie’s nightmares.  But as he started to build stock, he remembered how hard it had been to find merch for the things he liked. How a pin or a patch or poster he’d dug up at a garage sale four towns over made him feel more seen than anything on offer at the local mini-mall. How he wanted to be a hub for the weird shit not everyone liked, but the people who did loved. His horrible little magpie brain fluttered from shiny thing to shiny thing, and by the time opening day rolled around the store was a one-stop shop for all things music, merch and whatever wacky knick-knacks tickled Eddie’s fancy. Or horrified Steve. Or both. Both was best.
The Corroded Coffin guys slotted in easily. Francis always liked doing promo for their gigs, was good at it, too. But by the early 2000s, his methods were apparently so outdated his daughter begged to let her take over. (“He’s stapling fliers to telephone poles, Uncle Eddie. You don’t even have a website.”  
“What is a telephone pole covered in fliers if not the working man’s web-ed site?”
“Oh my God give me your credit card I’m buying you a domain name.”
“A what?”)
Jeff got his CPA and took over the financials, reeling Eddie in whenever he was struck by the urge to make a impulsive, outlandish purchase. (“I genuinely don’t understand how you make money.” 
“It’s cause I don’t do my taxes.”
“I do your taxes. At a great personal expense.”) 
Gareth was instrumental (heh…) in building up the music program—soundproofing the basement and hiring instructors and coordinating concerts and organizing payment plans, all the nitty-gritty non-music stuff that made Eddie’s head spin. At some point it just made the most sense for Eddie to cede control, let him operate it however he saw fit. (“This is your baby, dude. It’s a baby that took form within my own, much larger baby. But it’s yours.”
“I’m touched by your words and appalled by your phrasing.”
“That’s the only way I could have said it.”) 
(Gareth also once described the store as an “Elevated Hot Topic.” Eddie still hasn’t decided when he’s going to kick his ass.)

Momentum grew. Ideas compounded ideas. A kid asked how to sew a patch to his backpack and it snowballed into the Build Your Own Battlevest Workshop. Wayne suggested knocking out the connecting wall between the walk-in freezer and the pantry, and now thrice weekly Eddie runs table-top games for varying age-sets and skill-levels. (At Steve’s request, the elementary school group is called H-E-DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS FIRE CLUB. Not because he thinks it needs to be censored. He just thinks it’s funny.)  (He’s right.)
It was supposed to be a record store but now it’s so much more. Now there are listening parties and movie screenings and little league teams with his store’s name on the back of their jerseys and and and—
Eddie used to think, if he got lucky, he’d last a year. Now he’s closing in on 30. He was profiled by the local newspaper. They called him “a pillar of the community.”
Wild. 
It’s a warm, sunny April morning. He’s sitting at the takeout window, sipping coffee from the bottom half of a teapot-teacup combo that reads, in a menacing blood-red font, THIS FREAK DRINKS TEA. His hair is gathered in a loose braid, the ends still damp from his post-run shower. (Sometime in their mid-thirties Steve tricked him into maintaining a consistent cardio routine, and now he’s the type of person who gets out of bed at the crack of dawn to knock out an “easy three.” He’s a monster, a husk of his former self. A husk with a much-improved lung capacity and thighs that can juice a watermelon but nonetheless HUSK.) The middle school is about a half mile from the shop; he pulls faces at all the students filtering past. (Steve’s kids, current and former, refer to Eddie exclusively as Mr. Munson’s Husband. It never fails to thrill him.)
He’s leaning back to flip the record piping through the store’s speakers (“Dustin I don’t care if it’s ‘easier’ to ‘create a Spotify account,’ whatever that means. We play vinyl only! Let me be pretentious about this one thing!”) when he hears a meek, polite cough coming from just beneath the window. He peers out and on the sidewalk stands a girl. She’s small, too little to be one of Steve’s. She clutches the strap of her backpack, blue eyes huge with nerves and determination. 
“Hail and well met, weary traveler!” He’s speaking in what Steve calls his Dork Voice, the slightly tuned-down version he uses to put shy kids at ease. “How might I be of assistance?” The girl purses her lips, sets her shoulders, shakes her shaggy bangs out of her face. Eddie thinks suddenly of Nancy and Robin and his heart clenches.
“Do you like games?” She asks.
He smiles softly. Drops the act. “Yeah.” He rests his scarred cheek in the cradle of his palm. “I like games. Do you like games?”
The dam breaks.
“Yes!” She replies at once, breathless with enthusiasm. “My family plays a lot of board games, like Game of Life and Monopoly, and they’re okay but kind of boring, but my brother taught me how to play Settlers of Catan and I really liked that, and my friends and I played Werewolf at a sleepover but we made up a bunch of extra rules to make it harder, and my cousin showed me this video game where the ending changes based on what choices you make and that’s so cool—”
“Alright, slugger.” Eddie can’t help but laugh. “What game are you looking to play?”
The girl collects herself. “Okay,” she says. “Okay, so. So I like it in games where there are rules, but also you can make stuff up? And you can do something weird that might ruin everything but also might pay off? And sometimes you have to work with other people to accomplish your goal, but alliances can break?” Eddie nods. “So there’s this one game. It sounds like so much fun, but nobody I know plays it. They play it on this show I like, well, okay, it’s not really a show, it’s, uh, okay do you know what a podcast is?” Eddie beams.
Steve swapped study hall coverage so he could pop in for lunch. Tonight is parent-teacher conferences, which means Steve’ll be home late, which means Eddie will get absorbed in a project and either crash upstairs or stumble home well after Steve’s gone to bed, which means they’ve got to snatch the time together they can get. They split a sandwich, a salmon burger from Costco Eddie threw in the air fryer and smashed up with avocado and grilled poblano pepper. (”It’s heart healthy!” “You’re heart healthy.” “Aw.” “I meant that as an insult.” “I’m not taking it as one, mwah mwah mwah.”) Eddie eats too fast, as he often does, and drags his nails over the veins of Steve’s forearm to distract himself from his gastrointestinal tract turning inside out.
“🎶Myyyy babyyyy myyyyyy babyyyyyy,” he hums against the shell of Steve’s ear. “You’reeee my babyyyyy sayyyy it to meeeeee🎶.” “Alright,” he huffs, tapping his fingers to the knobby bone of Eddie’s wrist. He presses a kiss to the underside of Eddie’s jaw and rises. “I gotta get back.” He slings his messenger bag over his shoulder, gathers the papers he’d promised he’d grade but didn’t. Eddie watches him readjust, watches him smooth down the salt-and-pepper hairs dusting his temples, watches him push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He catches Eddie watching and asks, slyly, “What?”
Eddie wants to say, I love you. He wants to say, you’ve made me happier than I ever thought I could be. He wants to say, I’m so grateful I built this life with you. 
But he’s still himself, so what he says is, “Those khakis make your ass look great.”
Steve scoffs, and with a bitchy eye roll he sinks his weight onto his back foot and says, “I KNOW,” and there he is. There’s the man he married. He looks over his shoulder before he leaves, his honey-warm eyes liquifying Eddie’s spine.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “I love you too.” Eddie kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.  Pretty good life. 
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So, I watched red vs blue on a whim because of a youtube short up to season 12.
Like I binged that shit in a week.
And I just, have so many feelings.
Which means it’s posting time!
I fucking hate that this show makes me care and like and feel for these absolute idiotic assholes who sometimes go through really great character arcs and changes and sometimes back track on their growth so hard their backs crack while also making witty and shitty one liners and running jokes that have me cackling because I was not expecting that joke and for it to come back or, in a genuinely shocking turn of events, make me emotional.
I hate how my favorite character for most of the blood gulch arc was Church because we was sarcastic and bitchy and make me giggle and his relationship with Tucker reminded me if how me and my siblings bicker and fight and then he ends up having one if the most traumatic and complicated backstory ever with a really interesting dynamic with Tex that’s all about grief and saying goodbye and bringing people back but they don’t come back to the same expectations you’ve been holding for them while also dealing with the fact that Church was psychologically and quite possibly physically tortured into different parts of himself for a government program.
I hate how Tucker, the guy who keeps flirting and making unwelcome sexual comments to and about women in a very early 2000s way of giving your characters flaws, has ended up with a very odd but special place in my heart because he grows and changes as a character and develops beyond his flaws and is so painfully human and makes mistakes and is genuinely hilarious at times and cares so fucking much but he can’t show it because toxic masculinity but he fights anyways and is lowkey highkey the best soldier of them all and why do I like his character so much???
And just everyone’s chemistry with each other and the fact that I kept rewinding to rewatch scenes and jokes because they’re amazing or funny and I can’t tell you how ling it took me to get through some of those seasons I kept rewinding so much.
Like, how did they make a bit about them driving a military grade vehicle called the warthog with hispanic (?) music blasting through the radio as they crash into unsuspecting victims so fucking funny? I love this batshit crazy show.
I also hate how it makes me emotional. Sarge’s speech at the end of season 8? I almost cried. I chocked up. How fucking dare you. This is a show about a video game that came out before I was born. With jokes that would make a middle schooler proud and a plot that honestly had me baffled and craving more each season (up to season 12).
And they’re assholes! Like, they care about their shitty little group of friends so much that they are willing to commit various war heroics/crimes in order to save them, but they’re still assholes. But that’s what makes them great! They’re human and they mess up and make mistakes and say the wrong thing and make up and care and boy does it hurt to care.
Just AAAGGHH
This show has me shaking people aggressively by the shoulders and biting hard enough to bleed goddamnit.
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lamare-sims · 17 days
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Hey Lamare! I’m a huge fan of your LTW mod and I was curious: When/How did you first get the idea for the mod? How long did it took you to make it?
@quebaixo hi! Ok, story time!
I've wanted to have new lifetime wants for years. Other players have been making up new LTW ideas, creating their own systems on paper/spreadsheets. I really loved reading about that stuff and getting inspired, even though I didn't care for spreadsheets, I wanted the real deal. Like most people, I thought it wasn't possible.
I remember experimenting with LTWs back when I was pretty new to modding, but there were obstacles I couldn't solve, the biggest one being XWNT crashing the game.
A few years later, I heard that someone figured out how to create career LTWs and wrote a tutorial (@rio-sims and @palominocorn). It felt like such a breakthrough and I was surprised that no one have rolled out non-career lifetime wants. Like, WHAT?! So I had to make them myself!
By then, I knew much more about the game and programming in general to put together all the pieces. Still, it took me a few months to create the mod 🙈 I kept adding more and more LTWs to my list, changed my mind and redid some of them, and tested them extensively. I created LTW chooser along the way to help with testing and decided to share it.
Up until that point nobody knew, and suddenly there were all these people, who were excited, wanted to help and translate! I'm really grateful to all of them, @tvickiesims in particular. Her advice changed a lot :)
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aikoiya · 6 months
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LoZ - Yiga!Link is a Riot
I gotta say that the concept of Yiga!Link is effing hilarious. Especially if it's Zelink.
Because, think about it.
In this situation, Ganon has literally everything lined up perfectly. Link, his eons-long, multi-life arch-nemesis is essentially his minion & he likely doesn't even know it.
Kid's probably deep into the sauce too, man.
Then, either along comes this pretty little princess & he's like, "yeah, sorry bro, but I'm gettin' me some of that." Maybe he was kidnapped as a baby & Link & Zelda met previously as kids? Maybe she did something for him that he'd never forgotten, then when they remeet, she does something for him that seals a huge crush on her, & thus can't bring himself to kill her? I dunno, there's a lot of ways this could go. OR, he learns personally that he's the Chosen Hero, the very person he's supposed to despise & kill. Meaning that if the other members learn about it, they'll likely kill him. His whole life comes crashing down around him. The first blow to the cult's programming.
Like, it'd just be such a power move on destiny's part.
Like, as dangerous as Ganon obviously is, he simply does not win for very long. He always looses eventually.
And this would just cement that fact. Like, he had his effing arch-nemesis in the palm of his fucking hand & didn't even know it & he'll still fucking lose.
I dunno about you, but I'd be pretty damn demoralized after that.
I might just need the next 10,000 years dead before my next reincarnation to mentally recover.
---
At the same time, it does make me wonder. Why do non-Sheikah Yiga stick with them? Like, we know the reason why the Yiga was originally formed. A Hylian King from 10,000 years ago forced the Sheikah to decommission their technology, fearing it'd bring about Hyrule's demise. (Which, despite how unfair it was, he was... actually right. Makes me wonder if he actually learned that the Sheikah Tech could be taken over. Maybe he'd been an accomplished mage & had managed to use his magic to take control of the machines, then realizing that he likely wouldn't be around for the next Calamity, he ordered the Sheikah to find a way to prevent the machines from being possessed by magic. But no matter what they did, they couldn't manage to figure it out, or maybe they did for a while, but the king kept testing them to make sure it was fixed. However, much like hacking in real life, there will always be new ways to exploit the system, thus the king was left with no choice but to decommission them.)
But, anyway, what exactly do they tell their members to get them to want to stay? Hell, why were they even still a thing in BotW? Why hadn't they made their move? There were no more guards, or soldiers, only a few trained Sheikah, all of which were either too old to keep fighting or were swiftly getting there, & there'd been no royal family besides Zelda, who was keeping Calamity Ganon sealed away.
Why didn't they take over the rest of Hyrule, asserting their dominance & killing all the loyalists so that when the Hero returned, he'd be an outlaw, thus making his journey harder? (It certainly wouldn't have been the first time something like that would've happened in the series.) In fact, why reveal themselves to him when they meet? Just wait till his back is turned, then Eightfold Blade him in the back! Or have a Yiga replace the Sheikah & Hylian innkeepers/Stable Managers, then when Link rents a bed for the night, give him a poisoned complementary meal! Then, when he collapses, just execute him!
It's that easy! Or it should be, because they're effing ninja!
I mean, they were perfectly fine with killing Dorian's wife, who Dorian had been a member of the Yiga before, thus they've no issue with the act of killing.
Which, btw, why didn't they instead kidnap her, maybe even his daughters too, & use them as blackmail to keep him under their thumb?
LoZ Wild Masterlist
LoZ My Fanfic Masterlist
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